A Poetry Bouquet



Yes, even more poems for pondering on.

1.  How's Your Map?

There’s a simple way to find your way through life, and to be on the side of right,
Developing character as you go, and sparing yourself from what will blight.
Life’s so short, thus one better to get the most from it, and make the best of it,
’Cause obstacles are found on the way, which are better used to our benefit.

So what’s this simple way then? Well, it’s taking those streets and highways marked LOVE, where
The way’s paved with kindness and goodness — in other words, those who love and care,
Those who have chosen to live rightly too (their hearts and minds noble to the core),
And where is found what is closest to Heaven on Earth; life’s responsive door.

And such where you’ll rest easier, sleep more fitfully, feel healthier too,
Your mind and body blessed by right thoughts and deeds, yielding less to some cold or flu.
Self-inflicted worry and a troubled conscience causing stress and injury,
Marring happiness, making things harder, and why ones life is less trouble free.

Hence why there’s wisdom in taking those streets and highways marked LOVE, and where as well,
Those with a positive attitude and law-abiding heart peacefully dwell.
No ill found in their territory or home, both clean and green, a welcome sight,
Where streetlamps are hardly needed, ’cause these people come with their own inbuilt light.

A joyous light that you could carry within, your compass accurate too, and
You making sure that all those necessary refuelling stops are soundly manned,
’Cause what you tank up on will either get you there or not, and get there you should,
Because that’s the place, and they’re the people, where things more likely work for your good.

By Lance Landall

2.  Sleepy Little Flower Bud

Oh, sleepy little flower bud, how you take so long to unwrap yourself for me,
I watching, waiting and watering, have placed you in the sun strategically.
So please, a little more effort would be nice, despite patience being a virtue,
Because I’m longing to see your smiling face — and yes, all those pretty petals too.

I have noticed you getting taller, and those creative leaves on your stem, but hey,
It’s still that bud I see, just boring green, though watching out for you day after day.
Oh yes, how I long for your appearance, that grand opening that shouts, “Hello there!”
And all’s forgiven, you photographed and fussed over — oh, forgive my little tear.

By Lance Landall

3.  It's Time To Refocus

With the day being a lovely summer’s day, I strolled into town, but was terribly saddened to see
Someone's friendly but neglected cat lazing in the gutter near shops and traffic so perilously.
I stopped to stroke its wee head with my fingers, not wanting to run my hand over its mangy body,
And feeling disturbed by its plight, mindful of those cats at home treated very differently.

As I continued further on, I saw a woman with only one eye, a young girl in a wheelchair,
Some young mentally handicapped men in a van, and there were others I saw, each with burdens to bear.
And I thought of how sad it was, and is, given the current fixation with the body beautiful,
Which has little to do with the person, ’cause our body is just a shell, and age inevitable.

Yes, those with lesser shells, or some very unfortunate condition, aren’t given the same time of day,
The focus foolishly being elsewhere, the trite, sexy or sophisticated having too much say.
And we all the worse for such, ’cause it’s only what’s within that counts, and given beauty soon fades away,
Which means that where too much weight’s been given to such, it’s loss will be noticed more, and cause greater dismay.

The streets are full of injuries, broken and disfigured bodies-cum-less attractive shells, sadly,
’Cause life can be cruel, and Nature random — and far too often, thought and care lacking in humanity.
All why we need to stop and show we care wherever we can, and focus less on bodies, if at all,
Aware that the body’s nothing but a shell, and also mindful that upon us, misfortune could befall.

By Lance Landall

This poem was upgraded 26 January 2020.

4.  In Search Of Good Men

In this sad and sick old world where the damaged, weak or evil succumb to ill,
I’m glad there’re men who don’t, they resolutely shouting “Won’t!”-cum-sound as a bell.
Yes, good men, noble men, men who stand up and speak out and only do what’s right,
For they’re the greatest of heroes, true men, real men, men who don’t strut, preen or skite.

Yes, men who’ve no egotistical ambitions, nor lust for fame and glory,
Men who don’t tell tales out of school, kiss and tell, pen some vain embellished story.
In other words, men who’re upright, humble, selfless and no wolf in sheep’s clothing,
And who when it comes to abuse and deceit, display indignance and loathing.

Such men never hide behind some religion, nor join secret societies,
They transparent in all their doings, not involved in crime, trickery or sleaze.
And they, the protectors of women and children-cum-never anyone’s foe,
But earthly angels who only the greatest concern for humanity show.

The truth is, that any fool can act wrongly, indulge in evil, maim or kill,
Such requiring no inner strength, nor intelligence or particular skill.
But oh, how it takes backbone to stand up to such, a heart that’s sound, mind that’s strong,
For as implied, it’s easy to be a fool, so easy to succumb to wrong.

So where are the good men? — they seemingly fewer today, but needed far more,
For ill and evil have seized this earth with an iron grip, and danger's at the door.
But who’s awake or not distracted, able to see and a man among men,
Whose good deeds, kind words and upward look are worthy of a resounding “Amen!”

Yes, men who’ve no desire to hurt, harm, deceive or profit underhandedly,
And who refuse to be the manipulated tool of some evil agency.
Men who don't stop searching for truth, men who uphold the rights of all, break no laws,
For all who believe the end justifies the means use the same flawed corridors.

Hence why I’m glad that there’re still good men out there, though fewer in number they be,
For without them we would’ve perished long ago, or seen more insanity.
And why I hope and pray that more men will rise to the challenge, choose right, not wrong,
They marching to their own beat, but sound beat, not that of some tyrant or the throng.

By Lance Landall

5.  Winter Joys

You know, even on a winter’s day when the temperature is cool and the sky a sulky, surly grey,
There’s still joy to be found in that bracing wind that livens and refreshes, and with one’s hair is sure to play.
And oh, how cosy it is to be inside near the fire, a delight that only the winter time can bring,
Until that gorgeous burst of blossoming colour that adorns many a beautifully made tree come spring.

Oh yes, how summer is appreciated more having braved the moody winter weather and cooler air,
Having enjoyed those soups that warm and strengthen, and having downed those hot drinks as we lazed in that fireside chair.
Yes, even the curtains pulled, that soft glowing lamp, that book that keeps one engrossed, we relaxed and warm as toast,
And those of us lucky enough, hearing the pounding of waves in the distance bearing down on beach-cum-coast.

And lest I forget, that hail tapping each window, that wailing and whining coming from harassed power lines,
They flailing about as much as branches, and then there’re those moans down the chimney (and one for the summertime pines).
Yes, those chilly, rainy nights where one’s buried under thick blankets (toilet visits a reluctant affair),
Such all being part and parcel of that sombre season that never fails to come every quicker passing year.

But as I said, not without those joys that can only come from wintry weather, one tucked up inside or bed,
Or taking in the crisper scenery, one’s body clothed in woollens, gloves warming hands and hat warming head.
Yes, that cooler cleansing breeze that oft becomes more frisky, and that weaker sun that’s sought in sheltered places,
Such all being part and parcel of those long three months and shorter days that create all those rosy red faces.

By Lance Landall

6.  Lose Yourself In Others

Life’s too short to waste on petty upsets — and this very day could be our last — or a loved one cease to be,
For life is so random and unpredictable, and why these sentiments should be taken seriously.
And such we do take seriously when we make the most of each moment we have, using it more wisely,
And that being, in the best interests of others, for via doing so, we’ll be the happiest one can be.

Yes, for happiness is something that kind of sneaks up on us when we’re lost in others-cum-those selfless deeds,
And not something that’s found when we go looking for it self interestedly, thus turning plants into weeds,
For that’s how we corrupt our thoughts and actions, and actually deprive ourselves of what truly brings joy,
And why when we selfishly put ourselves before other folk, we can only but true happiness destroy.

Yes, there’s no greater joy but that which is found in serving others, and which often sees some kindness returned,
For those who’re in need are so very grateful when they receive the loving attention for which they have yearned.
And oh, many are in need, and many of them unattended to — those who could help oft looking elsewhere,
But only to end up disillusioned, happiness and joy only being found in projected loving care.

And yes, life is so short, and thus each day precious, too precious to waste, and loved ones too precious to neglect,
For fate can catch us off guard, taking either them or us, hence that common regret, as such we don’t expect.
And yet we know such can happen, and why our focus should be on our loved ones and others, and constantly,
For that’s where true happiness and joy are found; where regrets are few — and how we, remain in their memory.

By Lance Landall

7.  But

While acceptance and contentment are our best friends, the proverbial “but” has its place,
And that meaning, we going easy on others who find some things very hard to face.
Hence they struggling with acceptance and contentment, for some things aren’t easy to accept,
And some things hard to do without, and hence why over their plight, many have groaned and wept.

Yes, it’s easy to say, “Cheer up,”  “Look on the bright side,” or whatever else in that vain,
But many have had a bad and unfair run, have suffered some terrible loss-cum-pain.
And oh, how some things have a way of compounding, and often it doesn't rain but pour,
Thus one thing after another entering through an already violated door.

Words are all well and good, but applying them another matter, and such made harder
When help and support isn’t there like it should be, and why under the strain many err.
Enter us and sympathy, empathy, compassion-cum-kindness — well, hopefully so —
For though one can pray for others, that same God intended that they get help from below.

Yes, it’s so easy to lose patience with someone, but things can take time, which tests us too,
For any impatience on our side could show we’ve a weakness too, or short-sighted view.
And why here that “but” has more to do with us, we understanding how hard it can be
For some to apply what is written or spoken, and yes, however true it may be.

By Lance Landall

8.  A Great Idea

I’d like you to thoughtfully consider what I'm about to say,
'Cause I think that I’ve a great idea, one that could go a long way.
Yes, it’s really very simple, and it's easy to carry out,
So let me cut to the chase then, and tell you what it’s all about.

For every wrong thing that you do, do something right, something that's good,
And do this because you want to, not because you think that you should.
Such will help somewhat balance or counter that wrong thing that you’ve done,
Not fixings things, nor letting you off, 'cause what’s done is done, can’t be undone.

Such will simply even things up, so to speak, and even outweigh,
And hopefully — with time — far less wrong and far more right you’ll display.
But meantime, just adding a right to a wrong is very worthwhile,
So smile sweetly, go the extra mile, and where you can, reconcile.

The truth is, that we all make mistakes, do wrong things, and cause upsets,
Which most of us wish we hadn’t, and feel so bad, full of regrets.
But despite that, there's something we can do, add a right to a wrong,
By doing something that's good shortly after — yes, not take too long.

And if we all carried this out, so much brighter this world would be,
'Cause such would sow joy where there's sadness, leave others feeling happy.
Yes, there would be a lot more sunshine than is currently shining,
Which thereby would have clouds of darkness gradually declining.

Sure it’s a simple formula, but it's a good one that can't fail;
That being, where the right attitude and a willingness prevail.
It’s one that simply won’t let a wrong have its own way, but instead,
Right over the top of that wrong thing, a dollop of good will spread.

In other words, form a habit that will help dilute any wrong,
One that'll surround a mournful ballad with a brighter, sweeter song,
One that'll turn the tables on wrong, and get even by doing good,
Not letting wrong things win the day, 'cause that’s not something that we should.

By Lance Landall

9.  Yardsticks

We can look at a person’s face or body and it may not appeal, but hey,
It’s what’s inside that counts, and those not so blessed oft lovely people, by the way.
Someone who'd make their partner very happy, their beauty in their words and ways,
And why those who’ve foolishly gone for looks and size have found that it seldom pays.

So please mind when you’re scanning, and maybe with a partner in mind, lest you err,
For that one who doesn't appeal might be one who you’d actually prefer.
Too many judge a book by its cover, rejecting what’s really a treasure,
And all because they use the wrong yardstick when it comes to them taking measure.

By Lance Landall

10.  I Have A Dream Too

His sad brown eyes studied me, “Son,” he said, “The problem lies with humanity,
Always has, always will, ‘till, everyone’s had enough of the insanity.
However, nothing will work if hearts haven’t changed, it a case of déjà vu,
We simply revisiting the same old problems that we’ve already been through.”

I couldn’t help but nod. “Besides,” he said, “There’re those who’d just want the world their way,
Insisting that all go along with such, enter another form of foul play,
For no one should violate another’s conscience, and force just breeds discontent,
All being why those people who act so treacherously are never Heaven sent.”

He brushed a fly away. “You’ve heard of the Statue of Liberty, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Well,” he continued, “It’s no good in New York, nor God’s Law too,”
He whispered, “Be it in some courtroom, but both within us, we loving and true,
And a Martin Luther King, Mandela, Gandhi, Lincoln, not that they were saints,
But if you get my point, none of them having time for introverted complaints.”

Yes, I have a dream too,” he laughed, "Smiles replacing frowns, and tender words harsh words,
All having their say and choosing their way, go individuals and not herds.
Everyone compassionate, gentle, generous and kind, and why we’ll not find
A heaven on Earth until Heaven’s on Earth-cum-that change in one’s heart and mind."

By Lance Landall

11.  Come On, Folk

A tragedy is, that even those whose heart is good can succumb to some ill,
They having an issue or weakness that surfaces in time and doesn’t gel;
After all, it seemingly so out of character, even pretty bad too,
And they indeed remorseful, but sent to Coventry, Shame On You Avenue.

Hey, come on folk, haven't you some personal sin of your own-cum-skeleton?
For when it comes to mistakes made, or perhaps some ill done, no one can say none.
Oh, how terribly true such is, and yet, who comes down on other sinners hard,
While meantime polishing that “I’m holier than you” tarnished crown-cum-charade?

I mean to say, you may be short on mistakes and not have done anything bad,
But tell me this: How many “If looks could kill” and terrible thoughts have you had?
Yes, not all that squeaky clean, huh? — or clean on the outside and grubby within,
And yet, when it comes to those whose heart is good but off guard, it’s, “Look at their sin!”

Oh yes, what a tragedy that those whose heart is good succumb to ill one day,
Or make a mistake unworthy of an excuse, which shows we’re all made of clay.
Yes, such being reality, and compassion far too oft rare, and why it’s seen
That many who so err, despite they being remorseful, are kept in quarantine.

By Lance Landall

12.  Hit The Road Jack

Though this world is in turmoil, there’s a song in my heart, for I have made up my mind to make the best of things —
From which hope springs — for despite any ill around me, I can be at peace within, and hence why my heart sings.
Yes, troubles always come and go, even linger awhile, but why should I let them have it all their own way?
For troubles are trouble enough without me giving them a shovel, and for good measure, a heap of clay.

So, better to make the best of things, for we’re only allotted three score years and ten — sometimes less or more —
And much of that is spent sleeping, which means we’ve even less time to celebrate life, and this or that explore.
And to gain the most from life, we need that cheery inner melody, a calm and positive energy,
For wallowing in sorrow, bemoaning our misfortunes, or nursing our wounds, thwarts hope and possibility.

Yes, it’s better to show negativity the end of our boot, thus telling those troubles a thing or two,
For though we can’t always stop troubles coming our way, we don’t have to feed and clothe them, nor tuck them in too.
No, for they’ve no right in our life, unless we foolishly invite them, and that would be a terrible shame,
For troubles often steal enough as it is, and oh, how sad it is when we only have ourselves to blame.

But such needn’t be, and why when troubles gatecrash our life, we should meet them with courage and authority,
They thus receiving a reception that thwarts their worst, we showing them who’s boss, despite some cruel injury.
And midst any ensuing scuffle, we smiling and singing, even whistling a tune like “Hit The Road Jack,”
And then prudently guarding the door, lest via not doing so, more troubles enter, or those old ones come back.

Yes, hit the road troubles, "and don't you come back no more, no more, no more, no more..."

By Lance Landall

13.  Never Expect

A lesson I’ve been taught, though one perhaps not fully learnt, is to never expect-cum-wait expectantly,
For so often in this life we don’t get what we should, be that emotionally or materially.
And the reason why is, because we live in a cold, callous and selfish world, one where folk don’t always think,
Nor are always able to see, and why (figuratively speaking), many who can’t swim are left to sink.

Hence why so many are going it alone, and sometimes that’s all that one can do, and that, as best one can,
Given that what we’ve a right to expect (though not wise to be expecting), is withheld by our fellowman.
They making excuses for not attending to whatever need, or simply acting indifferently,
Many fattening their lot while others are going without or not enough, or struggling emotionally.

Perhaps you’re someone who doesn’t expect, but who knows what should be happening, and in that sense, feel
Which though understandable, really doesn’t get us anywhere, and oft worsens things considerably.
For people sometimes harden their hearts, and in their ignorance or selfishness, they look upon us badly,
We only creating some rift or row, and more troubles for our self, and why it’s best to act prudently.

You see, people either give or they don’t — it’s either in their heart to or it’s not — and when we force folk to,
We may get what we want, but have we changed things for the better, and how does that make us feel, though such
be due?
The truth is, that humanity will always let us down, and seldom live up to our expectations, for
Though those expectations might be reasonable, people often aren’t, and our plight can thoughtlessly ignore.

But such aside, it’s always far better to give than to expect, for what goes around often comes around,
And how we sometimes end up getting what we needed — a pleasant experience that many folk have found.
And hence why when we share the little that we do have, we can end up better off — and we, far more at peace —
Unlike many who though knee-deep in treasure, selfishly keep such to themselves, and such even seek to

Now back to where I came in...

Yes, so many are struggling or suffering in some way, they so in need, and expecting what should be so,
But they’re bound to be disappointed, if not already, as many who’ve gone before only too well know.
And why it pays to never expect, but rather, to speak on behalf of others who’re in need, and strongly,
Once again remembering that what goes 'round oft comes 'round; and we hoping, not expecting, much more

Yes, there’s nothing wrong with living in hope, for hope can keep us going, so long as it’s reality based,
And by that I mean (and in the meantime), that the issues that we have in our life need to be squarely faced.
For whether we expect or hope, we may not receive the thing or things that we desire, such more oft the case,
And why expecting can lead to disappointment and hamper contentment — the latter oft spoilt by what we chase.

Yes, never expect, and if you do receive what you should — rejoice!

By Lance Landall

14.  Mind Those Dreams

I guess we all dream about something, something we’d love to achieve, do or have — for me a home —
Yes, a home of my own, I oft looking at homes I wouldn’t mind when on sunny days I roam.
But such seems beyond me now, and thus only a dream, though there’s something that I thought I would share,
And that is, things don’t bring happiness, only pleasure, and if your health has gone, such pointless here.

You see, so many people are into things, wanting this and that, but meantime not taking care,
They neglecting their health, marriage, or family, hence those unfortunate regrets many share.
Yes, they may have what they desired — a home to be admired — but here they are, their dream having cost,
They crippled, divorced, lonely, or saddled with debt, and what really meant the most to them, now lost.

And this discovered too late, their mansion for all to see, and so too, the tragic irony,
For here they are hobbling to their letterbox, pain their lot now, and even emotionally.
Yes, there’re so many homes I see that appeal to me, but how many cost far more than money?
The occupants no longer happy-cum-little communication and no intimacy.

Seems we oft don’t appreciate how blessed we are, nor truly relish what we have — such folly —
And hence those dreams that can sometimes cost us, and thereby confront with some sad reality.
And how many lose a wonderful spouse, or the likes of their health? — better than a home by far,
But that, and even more, is what can happen when people go chasing some not so shiny star.

By Lance Landall

15.  Time And Room

Though we may desire those needed changes in our character, and though such may be our goal,
We oft let ourselves down and display the old self again, perhaps afflicting some poor soul.
Yes, despite those attempts we make to act differently — our heart seeking such sincerely —
We somehow mess up again, our words and actions contrary-cum-hello hypocrisy.

Oh, how discouraging such is, for often it’s goodbye friendships and opportunities,
Others thinking the worst of us, oft backing away from us, despite our “Sorry” or “Please.”
And sometimes when we are forgiven, or folk not write us off, we somehow mess up again,
We not meaning to, of course, but oh dear, how the old self resurfaces beyond our ken.

And hence that head scratching, old habits dying hard and painfully, but so long as they are,
They meantime more likely raising their head when we’re besieged-cum-stressed — or health wise, under par.
And so it goes — a sad reality, unfortunately — and thus why it is that we
Should always give others time and room to grow, such being what we all need — kindness and mercy.

So let's bear long, such oft resulting in someone’s turnaround which otherwise mightn’t have been,
Albeit very slow in coming, even annoyingly so, but better late than not seen.
And society all the better off — and yes, even we, for what goes around comes around,
Including that hardness and impatience we oft show, which someone’s old self is sure to compound. 

By Lance Landall

16.  Life Can Be Hard

Oh, how we wish for things, and they sometimes within our grasp, and then suddenly —
Whoosh! — they’re gone again, and we are left feeling that loss, enter despondency.
And often those things we wish for are good things — in other words, very worthy,
But no (for some reason or other), and thus life treating us most unfairly.

Sometimes we make it harder for ourselves, things taking more time to come our way,
Or never, seemingly, and for many, that’s the sad reality of today.
Oh, how we wish we could undo some things, push rewind, but once they’re done they’re done,
Hence why past ills oft predict future disappointments, though who of us has none?

Yes, even when we haven’t erred, we can still be denied things, or they taken,
The latter leaving us deeply wounded, grieving, or simply badly shaken.
And we thus wondering about it all, even contemplating foolishly,
For who knows what tomorrow may bring, and we having exited too early.

Well, some folk do take that path, don’t they — and to be fair, some weights are hard to bear,
But what a waste and double tragedy, all why another’s load we should share.
And who knows when we may want a hand, or have we already had such a hand?
And thus another’s struggling are far better able to see and understand.

By Lance Landall

17.  Please

“Life goes on,” they say, and that is true, and attitude everything too, but hey,
Some things in life can really hit hard, put a slippery mountain in our way.
Enter hardship and misery, depression and tears, the desire to opt out,
And when we are needing it most, support and empathy often not about.

And so we suffer alone, have to make it on our own, battling with despair,
We desperately seeking this or that, and oh, how we sometimes badly veer.
Enter condemnation, as if platitudes haven’t been bad enough, and now
We having more on our plate to deal with, could be clinging to a breaking bough.

Yes, far too often, too little attention is paid to those in agony,
And why they suffer more, even choose the wrong door, oft become a tragedy.
And then, they another conversation piece, when what they needed was a hand,
One with a loving arm attached, for that’s oft the only way that some can stand.

So please...

By Lance Landall

18.  Miracles

Do I believe in miracles? Yes, that unseen hand that spares,
Resulting in the opposite, thanksgiving rather than tears.
And where such stories are told, they giving reason to believe,
That hope and heart might continue midst those things that have us greive.

Yes, I do believe in miracles, which I'm happy to share,
Because I've experienced such during my life, here and there.
In fact, it's quite a miracle to survive another day,
Given danger's ever present, and life often snatched away.

By Lance Landall

19.  But Midst It All

Yes, we can talk about this ill or that ill, and of how we can stop such too,
But midst it all, and better by far, may love show in all that we say and do,
Because there’s nothing like that example, it glowing like a light in the night,
And pointing in the direction of growth and healing, the way of hope and right.

And this way, we not erring ourselves, despite any upset that we might feel,
Our heart remaining pure, and thus how the truth of our difference we'll reveal.
We never stooping but rising, moving amidst but separated from, and
Before any court of accusation thus able to innocently stand.

By Lance Landall

20.  Time Is Less An Enemy, More A friend

“When I was younger,” He said to me, “Twenty, thirty, even forty, fifty,
I had things figured out, or so I thought, but I didn’t have, actually.
Yes, much I thought back then I changed my mind about, and again, ever learning,
The chapters of my life but mere stages, the years-cum-pages quickly turning.”

“And thus with each leaf I turned there came new revelations — insights, really — oh,
I having ran, not walked, and oh, how much I talked, hardly listened, nor thought, no,
Except about me, and even then, what did I really know about myself,
Or ever would, I being the product of many things, hence that out of reach shelf,

— well, seemingly —

That shelf where my book will finally lie with the rest, folk who thought they knew too,
And more known about others, I fear, fingers pointing as they’re prone to do.
And I just as guilty, wishing I could tear some pages out, pen some new lines,
And wiser souls hardly surprised who saw the trend, those tendencies, telltale signs.”

“All why patience rewards, not to mention an attentive ear and thoughtful heart,
Selfishness nothing but a curse, and hang ups a threat to any apple cart.
And why it’s true (and oft sadly so), that the years teach much that the days never know,
And this being why older heads are far wiser, sounder — well, generally so.”


“We too impatient, too self-focussed, and oft don’t really know what we want, ’till
Many tears later we’re looking at loss or disappointment, trouble or ill.
Yes, maturity’s a progressive thing, and oft our tastes too, but oh dear me,
We think we know better, and for example, marry badly or too early.”

“In other words, our youth a perilous time, and more so when one goes astray,
Rebellion adding to immaturity’s bumblings, those things we poorly weigh.
And so it goes, sentences of tales, paragraphs of grief, a book of sorrow,
So many having spurned advice, played with fire, lived as if there’s no tomorrow.”

“And I no lesser fool, for life’s bad breaks and cruel blows shouldn’t be added too,
And by that I mean, via one’s stupidity or foolishly chosen avenue.
Though here I’m somewhat shouting into the wind, for I’m not the first or the last,
But simply another who has encountered reality, removed the mask.”

And I thought to myself, this chap knows what he’s talking about.

By Lance Landall

21.  Where Are Such People?

Give me the person that one can disagree with and still be friends — yes siree! —
Such put aside for harmony’s sake, the best interests of humanity.
A spirit of forgiveness and reconciliation, a moving on, and
Evil not gaining some victory, and all doing their best to understand.

Oh, those fools who sulk and murmur, criticism perhaps too prickly for them,
And yet, some minor fault or flaw in some fellow human are quick to condemn.
Move on! Move on! Take it on the chin, your character’s being tested, you know,
And disagreements there’ll always be, and the bigger man always the hero.

By Lance Landall

22.  Let’s Not Kid Ourselves

Though we should have love in our hearts for all, such doesn't mean dumping commonsense,
Because the results of foolishly accepting everything are immense.
And so, we love the person but never condone those things that aren’t good or right,
Otherwise, we’ll just head back into darkness rather than forward into light.

And back into darkness we’ve gone, for things once rightly condemned, folk now laud, and,
Confusion is plaguing the land, solid rock having been discarded for sand.
And this all making our world brighter, fairer and happier, supposedly,
And supposedly is right, because the truth is, we’re perching perilously.

By Lance Landall

23.  Best Give It Serious Thought

If there’s a test of our character, it just has to be the poor and needy;
In other words, how we respond, showing charity or culpability.
We either helping or worsening, ’cause doing nothing equals the latter,
And hence this being why our response here is more than a serious matter.

The truth is, that as we help others, we help ourselves, for what goes ’round comes ’round,
Such acting like an unseen law, and why here, one’s destiny is surely found,
Because if there’s a God, as I believe, such would have to be His litmus test,
And thereby, our response here, resulting in us being either cursed or blessed.

By Lance Landall

24.  Wishing, Wishing, Wishing

Have you ever wished for something? I have! A home, but really for my wife’s sake,
We having rented all our life, and the best of those homes having tried to make.
Such not like having your own home, and shift we’ve had to — a bother, I must say,
Unable to put any roots down, and before getting much older and grey.

But it’s not worth wishing one’s life away, better to count those blessings instead,
A roof above, an adequate pantry, a glowing heater and cosy bed.
One always making the best of things, home cooking, friendships, and strolls in the park,
Not to mention cuddles on the sofa when the sun goes down and things get dark.

By Lance Landall

25.  Where Love Starts

If it weren’t for love, where would we be, and I dare say, “No more,”
But gone like other creatures, some that only some of us saw.
Hence why love is paramount, yet far less we’re seeing today,
Which can only work against us, and hence why for more I pray.

Yes, may love become plentiful where it’s scarce. And where there’s heaps,
May it spread its unselfish mantle with warm embracing leaps,
Because we’ve a world that needs filling, those holes in many hearts,
And right there in every home and family is where love starts.

By Lance Landall

26.  Don't Rush Life

Too often life is rushed rather than savoured, kind of over before it’s begun,
We aware of sunny rays but not really taking the time to rest in the sun.
We grasping a bunch of flowers but not really smelling them, and so it oft goes,
And by the time we’ve got there, wherever that is, life’s door is beginning to close.

We more often looking through portals rather than being engaged in the real scene,
Chasing some end rather than enjoying the journey, puffed out and having to lean.
Yes, only really reclining in those final years, our health all the less for that rush,
And then our life expiring, so little time for love and laughter, and then that hush.

By Lance Landall

27.  The Tree

It’s a beautiful large tree that has stood for many years,
It’s photographed, it’s admired, it’s worthy of the stares.
It has withstood searing heat, blasts of hail and gale force wind,
It’s a strong tree, a tall tree, a tree that’s very thick-skinned.

It’s the children’s favorite, they can climb it easily,
Its trunk has many branches arranged most supportively.
Its trunk has nooks and crannies that give hands and feet a grip,
But even though that be so, sometimes shirts and pants still rip.

They clamber up its branches, far too high for their own good,
And no doubt a lot higher than their mother said they should.
They treat it as a lookout, they rock branches to and fro,
And midst delight and horror, there’re thumps on the ground below.

It’s the home of nesting birds whose chorus is heard at dawn,
It’s a high-rise nursery crowded with noisy newborn.
It’s a lofty launching pad where baby birds quickly learn
That flying comes naturally, and they only get one turn.

It’s the playground of spry cats, who soon scale its height with ease,
And when they can get the chance, those winged creatures love to seize.
They’re ever on the lookout, and they have the expertise,
Though when they’ve been successful, they still seem to have to tease.

It’s a haven from canines, a feline sanctuary,
It’s a place to laze and perch ’neath the chirping symphony.
It’s a place to sharpen claws and survey the scenery,
Or to shelter from the sun midst the shady greenery.

If this tree could speak like us, there are tales that it could spill,
But trees are not like humans, they’ve no way to kiss and tell.
And therefore, things that it has witnessed, metaphorically,
It is keeping to itself — now, isn’t that gentlemanly.

By Lance Landall

28.  Careless Words

Oh yes, careless words, how they so often cause trouble, wound and defame,
Words one shouldn’t have uttered, shouldn’t have spread, words too late to reclaim.
Words that too easily flow, tales that everyone of us should shun,
They sometimes exploding like dynamite, firing as if from a gun.

Oh yes, careless words, thoughtlessly woven, cruelly knitted, wrongly said,
Words that should never have entered one’s mind, each just like an arrowhead.
Words that fall like bricks, words that crush, words that rapidly extinguish joy,
Words that obliterate happiness, words that far too often destroy.

Oh yes, careless words, snakebites, poisonous cocktails devilishly brewed,
Or words one said taken out of context, tales that facts didn’t include.
Words distorted in the telling, cleverly compelling, sowing doubt,
Words awash with error, invention, that some treachery carried out.

Oh yes, careless words, far too often said, they the bane of humankind,
Words that should never be uttered, words that should never enter one’s mind.
Words best left unspoken, discarded, drowned in self examination,
Or kindly exchanged for words of encouragement or affirmation.

By Lance Landall

29.  The Tragedy Of Desire

Oh yes, the tragedy of desire, which so often thwarts contentment, and
Has us complaining despite many blessings — no, must have that designer brand.
And thus rather than gratefulness being heard, it’s a string of negative sighs,
A destructive, self-centred circle — want hardly being where the answer lies.

A bag a bag, say, and thus pride often having too much say, nose in the air,
A cheaper bag providing money for other things, and leaving more to share.
Yes, desire getting in the way of both contentment and others, sadly,
And all how it becomes a tragedy, dogging the steps of humanity.

By Lance Landall

30  A Wintry Night

Flames lick at the glowing wood thus sending warmth into the room,
Where curtains cover windows thus shutting out the winter’s gloom.
And someone’s sitting in a chair that’s beside an open fire,
They sipping from a steaming mug in their winter night attire.

Icy wind rattles latches and whistles around draughty doors,
Sending its chilly tentacles into darkened corridors.
Hail raps on the window panes and misty showers come and go,
Midst bouts of angry thunder that shakes the house where lights still glow.

Someone has dozed off in their chair, snoring rather noisily,
Draped in a woolly blanket and lost in dreams of life at sea.
The fire’s slowly dying, so soon the temperature will fall,
Thus stirring the old sleepyhead, who, into his bed will crawl.

Kitty is curled up on the floor in a fury little ball,
Catching all the heat she can, 'cause there’ll soon be none at all.
Her backs turned to the fire where now just dying embers glow,
And inside the house she will stay until outside she must go.

An ancient, grey grandfather clock stares out from its lofty view,
Standing guard inside the room, at the ready to chime on cue.
And the hands on the old clock’s face reveal that midnight is near,
And so, as soon as midnight comes, its loud chimes will fill the air.

There are mice in the kitchen nibbling at a large piece of cheese,
While kitty’s soundly sleeping, dreaming of these mice she will tease.
But right now, they are enjoying all the cheese that they can eat,
Though listening most intently for the sound of paws or feet.

And when those midnight chimes ring out, old sleepyhead will awake,
And also little kitty who will stretch and then a walk take.
And sleepyhead will make his way to the old four poster bed,
And shortly, little kitty, no doubt smug and very well fed.

By Lance Landall